Blood Slave
by CoffeeAddictt
Summary: Title says it all. In case it's not enough - Taking his time, he slowly, casually put his arms around me; imitating a lover's embrace. I didn't fail to notice that, in the process, he also wrapped his arms around mine, restraining me. I didn't fight against it. I stopped trying to after a while. Rated T for a reason.


**AN:** I... need to start updating my other stories :/ In the meantime though, I'll update this one I've had for a while, but never really found the time to update. Bear with me.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. At all. *Sobs* Characters belong to Stephanie Meyer.**

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_Against the wall. Against the window. Held to the chair. Held to the bed. His long, slender fingers forming manacles around my wrist. Always restraining. At least, in here. His cold hands would trail goosebumps over my sensitive skin. Dark eyes, boring into mine. Seeing through me - staring right into my soul. _

I like them when they were gold best. But they rarely ever are. Only when something's horribly wrong with me would they be such a pretty color. They were gold when I was sick, once. Other than that - he never could resist. He'd hold me down. After the first couple times, though, he stopped tying me to the bed. He gained some control after that.

Enough not to lose control, and kill me.

Accidentally, of course.

I hated it. The horror. The pain. How he'd pull my head back forcibly, presenting a full exposure of my neck to him. How he'd chuckle darkly when my heart sped up, pounding blood through my veins. How he'd put me in here once a week. Into this room.

_It's not that bad. I mean, good view. Good accommodations. Good eye candy._

I sighed at myself, because only I would think of something like _that _in a situation like _this_. Staring out the window, I watched as yet another crimson red leaf fell from one of the many trees in front of me. It was wrinkled, its original shape long gone. Now, wrinkled from old age, it now could only await to be stepped on, crunched upon, or swept away. It reached the ground, re-acquainting itself with its other brothers and sisters.

I wonder what Charlie was thinking right now. He was probably worried sick. No, more mad at me was like it. After a certain phone call I made, with _his_ arms around me, (my back was to his chest) and my gaze out the window, Charlie stopped calling here. I mean, yeah, it ended with me yelling a few things I wish I could take back, and him screaming that from here on out, I was on my own, that I wasn't his daughter anymore… but hey. Whatever keeps him safe.

_He_ told me I didn't have to go that far. But I did it anyways. He rewarded me for that… kiss after kiss, touch after touch, until I forgot my own name. I didn't even feel it that time, my mind too engrossed in the feelings his kisses instilled.

I loved this view. It faced a patch of grass and large trees, always beautiful in the fall. It was located in a secluded space in Chicago. And yes, I see the irony. Of all places, and he decides on _Chicago. _Still, though. Who _could_ resist that perfect crooked smile, that untameable mess of bronze hair?

My eyes flitted over the scene, pinpointing a leaf swirled with red and yellow as it fluttered towards the already blanketed ground. The setting sun hit the view just right, as it fell over the horizon facing the window, setting off beautiful glows of yellow streaking in between the tall trees, patches reaching in through the window. The window was quite large, a large rectangle taking up just over half of the wall, centered in the middle. I loved this room.

Yet, I couldn't help but be deathly afraid of it. Maybe afraid was the wrong word. "Horrifically hate" is more like it. I didn't want to be. This room was quite nice, as rooms go. It could be worse. He could've chosen a small cabin in the middle of no where, with no electricity. He would have survived fine, either way. I was glad he picked the more comfortable choice. It was one thing to be thankful for when Thanksgiving came around. Here, it was clean.

Comfy. Hell, even _homey_, with all the added decor. The bookshelves around the house didn't hurt, either. Colors matched one another. Even more ironically - the color theme in this room was red. Red, white, and black. It was unnaturally beautiful. Anyone could see the time and effort given to set the room just right.

They shouldn't have bothered.

My ears strained to hear something - anything - that would alert me that he was coming. Nothing. Ever. He moved entirely too silently. The thick carpeted flooring may have helped. No, he was silent either way. It was in his nature. And it wasn't like I could stick my head out the door and see. The door locked from the outside, locking automatically the second it clicked into place. For _his _convenience.

_Wouldn't want the lamb to run away from her pen._

I may have had something to do with it. One time, I almost got away… or so I thought.

_I listened closely, pretending to read my book, as he drove off. I waited five minutes before I hopped up. Running to the window, I tried the latch, just in case. Of course it wouldn't open. I picked up the nearest chair. Swinging it towards the window, I turned my head, as the crash shattered the glass into a million pieces. I threw a towel over the jagged pieces still on the windowsill, before using the chair to climb out._

"What_ do you think you're doing?" A voice hissed angrily behind me. A sharp tug on my ankle sent me tumbling back inside. Oh. Shit. Oh holy crow, I'm screwed… _

_When I stood up, my back was still to him, as his arms locked around my waist. I struggled against his iron hold. He barely noticed._

_Dragging me backwards, he whispered into my ear, "I told you not to run," He continued slowly, in a dangerously calm, velvet voice, "I think I'm going to have to teach you a lesson… or would you rather it be punishment?"_

Yeah, after that, I found that the front door, and the door to this room automatically locked. And for some strange reason, the windows seemed to be a little thicker.

I focused on the colors that the sun gave off, streaking the sky into beautiful shades of purple and red. I so rarely saw sunsets like this. The conditions had to be just right. And it wasn't like I made it a priority to watch it every night. Just once a week.

I heard the door click shut, though I never heard it open. Damn him and his silent ways. I could feel his presence in this room. He didn't approach me, not yet. I learned that, sometimes, he would just stand there. He'd lean against the wall, the door, something. He'd stand there and watch me for a second. There wasn't a clock in here. When I say 'second' I mean 'a while'.

383 days. One year, two weeks, four days. That's how long I've been here. I was seventeen when I was taken from my bedroom in the middle of the night. Now, I was eighteen. That night, I had been reading _Pride and Prejudice_ with a flashlight under the covers. I felt _him. _I brushed it off, thinking it was Charlie telling me to go to sleep, again. Never did I expect someone to get under the covers with me. Never did I expect someone to so quickly flip me onto my back, and lock my hands to my sides. Never did I expect my scattered book to be splattered with blood within seconds. They were just a few stray drops, though.

He bought me a new copy later.

I felt him walk up behind me. My hands clasped down onto the windowsill, in reaction to his cold fingers brushing my hair to one side. I saw a translucent reflection of him from the window. He looked so focused, so deep in thought. His stare was pinpointing itself on the waves of my hair. His eyes were dark as the night, right before dawn.

He finished pulling my hair completely to the left side. Which left the right half of my neck exposed. I wished I was wearing something sensible this time of year, like, oh, you know. A turtleneck.

He told me to wear a tank top. Spaghetti straps.

Taking his time, he slowly, casually put his arms around me; imitating a lover's embrace. I didn't fail to notice that, in the process, he also wrapped his arms around mine, restraining me. I didn't fight against it.

I stopped trying to after a while.

More and more leaves fell. The trees were nowhere near bare, but they shed their leaves constantly, giving it away like bread crumbs to pigeons. My eyes locked on a beautiful deep purple leaf, drifting slowly from the sky. Every so often, it'd be caught between crosshairs of the fading sunlight. The light lit up the leaf, making it a lighter purple; not so dark. It was beautiful.

I felt his hands softly stroking my arm soothingly. _Up… down… up… down…_ I couldn't help but relax. His touch was my ambrosia. His needs, my kryptonite.

Removing one arm from around me, he reached slightly over, within arm's length, and pushed a button. Faintly, Claire de Lune began playing in the background. I smiled softly, the corners of my lips tugged up just a bit.

"It's a pretty view," I spoke softly. He rested his head lightly on my shoulder.

"I agree," his velvet voice responded softly. Though, he wasn't looking out the window. In fact, one might say he looked like he was staring at the one staring out the window.

I felt my heart speed up the beat to one as fast as a hummingbird's wings, when he tilted his head, and leaned in.

"Shhhhhh, shhh," he said gently, his sensitive hearing easily picking up my racing heart. Reaching his destination, he began placing kisses down my cheek, to the bottom of my neck. He then started back up. His lips were somehow soft, and smooth. A bit cold, maybe, but a wonderful sensation. When my heart stopped beating like it was about to go into cardiac arrest, he pulled back a little.

I smiled a small smile at him. He stepped in front of me, pulling me into his arms again.

Leaning in, he slowly ran the tip of his nose up my neck, before kissing down. I felt his tongue swirl at the pulse point on my neck. If anyone ever saw us - though, I doubt anyone could even _locate_ this house - they'd think we were a regular couple, one making the most out of their privacy in such an empty house. My breath started coming out in small gasps.

_Damn it.. Look at the goddamn trees. It's a fucking pretty sight. Focus!_

He pushed my hair to my back. One of his hands detached itself from his hold around me, tangling itself in my hair instead. He gripped it at the base, tightly, enough so I couldn't move, but not so that it hurt. He pulled, tilting my head back. I was forced to gaze higher. Not at the ceiling - he didn't need_ that_ much room - but to the very top of the trees. A bird had made a nest at the top of one of them.

His arm stopped restraining me; it wasn't like I could fight him anyways. His free arm now snaked up my back, pulling me closer to him. My own found their way around him. One ensnared itself into his hair, the other up his back.

He whispered, "It's going to be okay, Bella."

He kissed my neck one more time, before his mouth widened. I felt his teeth slowly clamp down on the left side of my neck, right above the pulse point. They sank easily into my skin. I cried out softly at the sudden pain, even if I had felt it countless times before. I felt an intense burn, his venom - _Edward's venom -_ making it's way through my blood. He sucked it out, along with my blood, before it would do much damage. He then slowly sucked at his treat, carefully making sure he didn't take too much, that I couldn't heal from. That I would die of. Because God forbid my heart stop beating… I groaned softly, at the sucking sensation, not to mention lack of blood, at my neck. I didn't scream at him to stop. I didn't cry out in denial.

I couldn't. I'd give him anything.

Everything.

Because I love him.

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Huh. Well, then. Who knew my once-innocent mind would come up with something like this? Let me know what you think [insert smiley face].


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